


In Which The Giant Shamrock's Charm Fails

by kissmeimirish (spockoid31)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Funny, M/M, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockoid31/pseuds/kissmeimirish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little plan of Seamus' backfires. Happy Saint Patricks day! I'm sorry its so late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which The Giant Shamrock's Charm Fails

Title: In Which The Giant Shamrock's Charm Fails  
Author: kissmeimirish  
Paring: Mostly pre-Deamus, but things work out in the end  
Rating: Er- PG-13? PG-14? They can drop the F-bomb in PG-13 movies, so they can do it here.  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling &amp; Co. own regular characters. I dress them up in silly costumes and give them actual love lives.  
Summary: A little plan of Seamus's backfires.  
Notes: It's yet another time of no sleep, so please be gentle. Things seem so much funnier when you're absolutely exhausted. xD (see?)

\- - - - - - - -

"Aaar- what the *fuck*?!"  
Dean Thomas yelled this at the daybreak of March 17th, in the dusty first-light filling their dorm.  
The reason he yelled was a 5 foot 3 four-leaf clover, standing by his bed, bent down over his face.  
"Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Dean!" grinned a blue-eyed, green-painted face, circled by the clover leaves.  
"SEAMUS! What are you *doing*!?"  
"Waking you so you can get every last second of pleasure on this, the happiest day of the year! Or," he paused, musing, "the happiest day of March, and perhaps April and May as well."  
"And that's why you're dressed as a giant shamrock, correct?" Dean was coming to his senses, blinking around at his staring dorm-mates.  
"Yes, and I've got a present for you!" Seamus's Irish lilt was noticeably stronger.  
"Please say it isn't a matching clover suit."  
"No, silly, there's only one Giant Shamrock. He goes around giving out Saint Pattie's presents to everyone else! Here-" and he tossed a shiny green package on Dean's bare chest, then sat down with a soft "whump" on the end of the bed.  
Dean turned it over in his hands for a few moments, judging whether or not it could be something dangerous, like a Stunned but very pissed off baby Blast-Ended Skrewt, or something totally inane, like an animated cream puff. He decided to kill the suspense and ripped through the paper.  
Oh.  
It was a scarf and glove set of a soft, midnight-black material, covered with little moving clovers, leprechauns, and pots of gold at the ends of rainbows.  
"Oh- er, thanks, Shay."  
Seamus nodded, still grinning like a- well, like a giant, demented, 4-leaf clover.  
Dean saw that he was going to have to put them on to make Seamus go accost someone else and let him get back to sleep, so he unfolded the scarf and draped it around his neck.  
"*You're hot!*"  
Dean jumped, and looked around. It sounded way too high-pitched and squeaky to be one of the boys, but it was so close-  
"*Someone cast 'Augumenti', cause this baby's burning!*"  
Dean blushed. Seamus had stopped grinning; in fact, he looked horrified.  
"Er- what's- who's saying that?" Dean managed to push out.  
Seamus cleared his throat. "Erm- it must be a- erm-" he trailed off, eyes wide.  
"*Wrap me tighter, I wanna be closer to you!*"  
The *scarf* was *talking.*  
It reminded Dean of the shamrocks that he and Seamus had worn that summer at the Quidditch World Cup, yelling pro-Ireland slogans. He reached up and tugged the offending strip of cloth off his naked skin, staring at it as it slithered back down to join its companion, the gloves.  
Every eye in the room was on the giant shamrock. Seamus was blushing so hard, you could see his green face paint darken.  
"Shay?" Dean's voice was quiet.  
The horrified silence was broken by Hermione nearly dying of laughter.  
"Hermione! What are *you* doing here?!" asked Ron, as every boy- with the exception of Seamus- instinctively yanked the covers up to their chins.  
"Seamus- I tried to- oh, *wow*, that was-"  
She failed to finish her sentence, and decided to collapse in a fit of giggles instead.  
"Er-Dean, what happens when you put on the gloves?" Harry's voice shook with barely suppressed laughter.  
That's the final sprinkle on the cake and the packet of biscuits. The whole room erupted in laughter.

\- - - - - - -

15 minutes later, when the sanity returned, if only somewhat, and Dean had cheerfully threatened painful and gruesome deaths for them all, Neville asked what charm Seamus had cast on the present.  
"Er- I don't really remember," Seamus admitted, cheeks flaming once again. "I was still pretty pissed, after drinking a coupla bottles of Firewhiskey. I used the charm Hermione said to use, for verbal animation and- er, what was it?"  
"The charm, if cast correctly, would make it so whatever the wearer thought- er, *at* the item, would be verbalized by the scarf, or glove, or whatever," said Hermione, cheeks still red and eyes still teary.  
"Unfortunately, Seamus wasn't in a very strong state of mind while casting the charm, so it backfired, and now whoever wears the scarf or gloves will be subject to a copy, of sorts, of Seamus's mind, and what he thinks about that particular person."  
Dead silence filled the room.  
"Oh," realized Hermione.  
"Oh," followed Dean.  
"Oh," countered Neville.  
"Shite," finished Seamus.  
Ron broke the slightly tense air by helpfully exploding with laughter.

They decided not to risk another possible death-by-mirth situation by dressing at top speed and dispersing as fast as possible, avoiding any eye contact with their dorm-mates. Even with such precautions, there were a few straggling giggle-fests in the last few I-can't-get-my-socks-on-right moments.  
Eventually, they all escaped with internal organs relatively unscathed and scattered out over the grounds, basking in the glory of a sunny, warm Saturday.  
Except, Dean realized, Seamus.  
The walking, talking, slightly disturbing piece of vegetation was nowhere to be found.  
After a brief search of every single gent's in the castle, the Owlery, back in their dorm, and several odd broom closets, Dean ascended the stairs of his final hope.  
Seamus, still in shamrock form, was sitting on a dangerously slim ledge about three feet under the turret of the tallest tower, feet swinging as if to tempt gravity.  
Dean closed his eyes and jumped down beside him.  
"Hey, Seamus. I was looking for the Giant Shamrock. He didn't give out any more presents; I bet the others are jealous."  
Seamus just shrugged his natural-green shoulders, and slumped a little more.  
"What's up? Are you upset that your charm didn't work?"  
No answer. Kick of the feet.  
"What are you *doing* up here, anyway? It's really dangerous; there isn't a spell on this to keep you from falling."  
A Look. Looks that are meant to be serious can come across as quite comical when the Look-er's face is smothered in green stage makeup and is rimmed in leaves.  
"Oh, c'mon Shay- you can't jump. It would just be cruel to make everyone else have to peel a huge, squashed plant off the ground."  
A laugh tears its way through Seamus's throat, and sends them both over the edge, though not literally.  
They clutch on to each other, laughing for all they're worth, semi-hysterical with the worry of imminent death.  
"Really, Seamus, I couldn't give a shit about a backfiring charm."  
Seamus made a funny sound.  
"I wish you'd told me earlier. We could've spent the last four years snogging each other senseless."  
Seamus looked at him, startled.  
"Y- you mean-?"  
Dean answered him by snogging him senseless. So senseless, in fact, that they had to crawl back into the tower to finish the job properly.  
Dean- and Seamus- got every last second of pleasure from that Saint Patrick's Day.

\- - - - - -

Mwahahahaha! The Green Leprechaun-A-GoGo folk have infiltrated my already sleep-deprived brain and produced this! What do you think?


End file.
